Stupidities of Man
by Zayz
Summary: SBOC, LJ, as told by OC. Fourth year for Ainsley Catherwood and Lily Evans means homework, gossip, dances, boys, introspection, sarcasm, and this year, maybe the possibility of love on the horizon. M for language, full summary inside. R&R?
1. Train

**A/N: All right, well, this is my latest idea – my latest little brain-child, if you will. It was unexpected, and actually came to me in the shower one night, but I decided to outline the whole, long thing and just go for it, because writing Ainsley is a lot of fun and I wanted to experiment with the idea. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and depending on your responses, maybe soon we'll have an update!**

_**Title: **_Stupidities of Man_**  
As Told By: **_Ainsley Catherwood  
_**Year:**_ 4  
_**Rating:**_ M for language, just to be safe  
_**Pairings: **_Mostly SiriusOC, but quite a lot of LilyJames along with it  
_**Full Summary:**_ For Ainsley Catherwood, Lily Evans, and the rest of their fellow Gryffindors, everything is about to change in these next tumultuous months in ways they'd never imagined possible – there's flirting, fighting, frolicking, fretting, and even some falling-in-love. As they embark on their latest journey through the misty, delicate marshes of teenage-hormones, Lily and Ainsley find themselves in some sticky situations they never expected to face before – and they somehow have to live through them. _Much _easier said than done.  
_**Warning: **_The language is pretty foul in this story – Ainsley's tongue is a little more uncensored than my usual tongue if you've read my other stories, so it's only fair to warn you that there will be a _lot _of cursing, especially as the story goes on.

* * *

It's ten forty-seven AM exactly.

Sunday morning, bright and early. The autumn-worthy weather – deceivingly sunny with a wind cold enough to frostbite my ears – beats down hard on me, like it always does at this time of year. I retreat further under the sweatshirt I am wearing at the draft, and clutch tighter to my trunk handle as I look around the busy train station for the right platform.

I really, really, _really_ need to get going.

My expression feels sullen, because right now, I _am _sullen – in my humble opinion, ten forty-seven is far too early to be able to think. I'm never awake until at least eleven, which causes a slight problem during the school-day in my first few classes.

Next to me in the gaggle of Muggle train-visitors, my mum, Eileen Catherwood, is craning her long neck around with me, but to a higher extreme. She looks like an ostrich from the angle I have on her – long legs, long neck, big mouth, prominent middle area.

I like to think that the doctors at the hospital gave me to the wrong mother, because I look absolutely nothing like her – all my features are small, and I'm an average height, if not a little bit shorter. It makes it easier for me to make fun of her and not feel too badly about it.

"Ainsley darling, _please_ look for the damn platform," Mum begs me in her usual shrill voice. Even if she's not trying to, she always sounds like she's bleating. It's kind of depressing.

"I'm looking, Mum – unbunch your knickers, won't you?" I tell her irritably.

She gives me a look upon hearing my tone, but I ignore her. I'm immune to her 'glares' by now, and they are about as frightening as baby kittens. She has an unfortunate habit for forgetting that I am no longer four and easily frightened. I am four_teen_ and it takes a little more than a look to scare me – unless the look is from my best friend, Lily Evans. Then circumstances change.

But, at last, I do catch sight of the platform in front of me, just beyond a rather large woman saying a pitifully weepy good-bye to a bored-looking boy in his late teens. Peering over at it, I point, and say, "Right there, Mum. Can we go?"

"That's what I'm trying to do," she says crossly, brushing her blonde hair (so unlike my coal-black locks) out of her face. She shuffles me forward with my trunk, and tries to push past the woman I'd noted, but to no avail.

"Excuse me?" Mum asks the woman in her nasal whine, attempting to scoot her aside. "I'm trying to get through here – ex_cuse_ me."

The woman doesn't move or even hear her, but continues to hug her son, who is attempting to edge away towards the train with an apprehensive look on his face. I want to comfort him – clearly, his mother is one of those horrifically clingy types that make me ill because they care so much – but I know I can't. Mum would freak out that I'm 'intruding on a stranger's personal life,' as though it's some sort of capital offense.

I've learned it's better, and easier, if I just to keep my mouth shut.

So, as a better use for my frustration at this lady, I ram her lightly with my trunk and holler, "Excuse me, ma'am, I have a train behind you that I have to catch in about ten bloody minutes."

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the kindest thing I could've done, but I had to do _some_thing, didn't I?

The woman whips around to look at me when she hears me, her eyes bugging practically out of her face with horror. I can only imagine what she sees – a slim, peevish-looking teenager, with dark hair, enormous grey eyes with long eyelashes, a fair complexion, and a goaded expression.

She cries out, simply to spite me and cause my mum to glare daggers at me, and says, "Well! Young lady, you ought to learn some manners."

Here, my mum gets a significant look – as though she's the boss of what mothers should teach their daughters these days – but the woman does finally move aside to let us speed past, hindered slightly by the size of my ragged trunk.

Like most of what I own, it's been through the mill, and is far too small for me to utilize properly – hence the difficulties I get into at train stations.

"Thank you," I shout back to the stupid woman I'd wound up as I sprint to the platform and charge right through, with Mum trailing along after me. I know I should be more subtle when I come through this platform, so not to attract too much attention from the Muggles, but somehow, I never am. I'm not too partial to the whole 'quietness' thing when I can be loud.

When we do get on the other side though – the wizard side with much noise and too many people saying good-bye – Mum rounds angrily on me, looking at me as if I'm a felon or something cool like that.

"What the hell were you on about there?" she demanded. "Are you crazy, Ainsel-puff?"

"Mum!" I groan. "For the love of Merlin's second-cousin-twice-removed, _please_ stop calling me by that appalling name!"

Ainsel-puff is the nickname my mum came up with for me years ago, when I was around three years old. I'd been obsessed with Puff the Magic Dragon, and my mum used to call me Ainsel-puff because of it; even after the phase wore off, I'm still stuck with the name, as a dirty reminder of the times when my mother and I had been close.

Now though, she doesn't use it affectionately. Now, she ignores my pleas to forget about it and only uses it when she's angry with me – like she is at present.

"Ainsley Catherwood, _never_ again do I want you to hit random people with your trunk or use the term 'bloody' in front of them, do you understand me?" she thunders, her face contorted with her annoyance and embarrassment as she stares down a couple of inches at me.

"Of course," I say, bored, waving the matter aside with a flick of my wrist. "I promise, I'll be good, I'll be great, I'll be wonderful – but only if I get to the train and go to school. So, I'm going to say goodbye now so I can take my time sticking my trunk into my compartment, yeah?"

Mum seems a little disconcerted by my rushed eagerness to get away from her, and blinks with surprise. I don't know why she reacts with such behavior, because I do this to her every year, but I look expectantly at her anyway until she says, "All right then, Ainsley."

I nod, and bite down the meanly sardonic remark itching to escape my throat as I put on my tightest smile and reach forward to hug her. "Good-bye, Mum, I'll miss you," I say, trying my best to sound believable.

In all likelihood, we both know that I will not miss her.

"Good-bye, my love," she says, so genuinely that it almost makes me feel bad. "I'll see you at the end of this year, yeah? Keep writing letters to me, and keep your grades up, and for goodness _sake _please study for your exams with that Evans girl – I want you to do well this year – and don't get into too much trouble with the teachers, I don't want a repeat of last year…"

"Okay, okay," I cut her off impatiently. "Fine. No putting live frogs down Professor Slughorn's basket-like pants this year, got it, got it. See you later."

I give her one more quick hug, glance at the clock above me (it reports the time to be ten fifty-two), and tell her I've got to get going. She looks quite despondent, now that I have to go – it's odd for me to see, because over the summer, I could tell she could barely wait to get rid of me. Being an only child to my divorced parents, I'm her only other family member – and I'm not the kind of make-up-and-fun-loving daughter she wants me to be.

But then again, this happens every year; I believed her at first, but I think that by this year, when I'm at my most "hormonal" (her words, not mine), she's only putting on an act when she says she's going to miss me.

That does make things bittersweet, but bittersweet is just how we are. I've learned to get used to it.

So, with this in mind, I decide against my better judgment to give into my sudden affection for her, kiss her _quickly _on the cheek, and saunter off towards the train, waving vaguely to give the impression that I care anymore about these pointless good-byes. However, my temporary guilt does not stop me from disregarding whatever she's shouting at me from a distance, so I'm able to turn my full attention forward to the train I'm trying to climb onto, hoping to ignore what's going on in my stomach now that I know I'm being a complete bitch to the woman who brought me into this world.

This is the thing about my mum – when you're with her, she annoys the shit out of you. But the moment you leave her, it feels like something's missing, like you've forgotten something of mild importance; you forget all the stupid things about her and you remember that you do, in fact, kind of love her.

I get these little twangs sometimes – these little twangs of honest-to-goodness daughter-to-mother love that the good girls get – but they usually pass pretty quickly, like a bad burrito lunch from the Mexican take-out restaurant a mile or two away from my house.

And sure enough, I'm pretty much unscathed a moment later.

With a wane sigh, I run the fingers from my free hand through the hair that I've been told is as black as my heart, and I board the train at ten fifty-four with six minutes to find a seat, dump my trunk, and hunt for Lily Evans.

This ought to be fun.

The train ride is, in all honesty, my least favorite part of the entire trip – I rarely have enough time to settle down before the thing lurches forward down the track, and I've made so many enemies through my short time at Hogwarts that there are very few people willing to sit with me. Ever since the first day, I've sat with the girl who became my best friend in the universe, the aforementioned Lily who has the ability to scare me with her 'looks' sometimes, but today, she is nowhere to be found.

Damn – I'd better find her soon.

Back and forth, forth and back, I search the many compartments for Lily's admittedly-noticeable head with growing frustration. Bugger – where did this girl go? She knows I like to sit with her on the train; have the past three years been absolutely _no _reminder for her whatsoever?

Anyway, she_ should _be here – Lily's one of those anal-retentive people who love being at least ten minutes too early, which is good for someone as lazy as myself.

I'm about to give up and sit in a random compartment, when at long last, I see a red-haired someone shriek my name and run at me, throwing her arms around me and squeezing me so tightly, I fear I can't breathe. I let go of my trunk at last, in the middle of the aisle, and cautiously hug her back, wondrous and slightly dazed by her attack.

Yes, this must be Lily.

Taking in the nostalgic, blissfully familiar scent of sweet orchids and tangy honey-mustard that always lingers around her, I give her a final, awkward wring before gently separating her from me and affectionately taking in her excited expression.

For the first time since I last saw her, the smile on my face is absolutely true – summers are torturous at home, and I always miss Lily so much more than I will ever be able to tell her.

"Ainsley, my darling, my lovely, how are you?" she immediately wants to know as she grabs my trunk from me and drags it down the aisle to a compartment in the back.

"Erm…pessimistic, ill-tempered, and harassed by my mother; but what else is new?" I drawl, by way of my signature bitchy greeting, even to the only girl in this world that matters to me.

Lily laughs her usual laugh – loud, easy, and natural. "Merlin, I've missed you," she says, her sweetly green eyes (that I sooo wish I had) running me over in my messy attire. "Come in here, Ains, I want to take a look at you."

Just blissful that I am in the company of someone who is _not_ my mother, I oblige by taking my trunk, stuffing it up top next to Lily's (very neat, pretty, and suspiciously new-looking) trunk, and retreating into the tiny cubicle that is our compartment. I awkwardly stand there in front of her, and say, "Ta da."

She laughs again, and comes in with me, and we both rake our eyes over each other, seeing with interest what the summer has done for us.

For me, it has done nothing. I look exactly the same as before – except my hair has grown out a little and even started to curl slightly at the ends, and I'm a little thinner than I was when I left. Minor changes, those are; negligible, easy to overlook, because they're so delicate.

But Lily – Merlin, she's changed almost _too _much for my liking; if she hadn't jumped on me a few moments before, I fear I wouldn't have recognized her.

This is definitely my best friend Lily Evans as I see the things that are so distinctive of her – her gorgeous, fiercely red hair, her tall stature, the faint freckles peppering her light cheeks – but today as I take her in, there's so much more about her that's _different_.

Over one summer, she's suddenly turned into something…else. Some variation of Lily that I'm not used to.

Sure, her hair is still red, but it's grown out to be really long – much longer than mine. She's still tall, but she's filled out a bit; she's got curves, and I bet she had to go emergency bra-shopping over the two months we've been apart. Her face, while freckled, somehow seems devoid of the young-girl roundness to me, and more _adult_.

There's no doubt about it – Lily did some rapid growing-up without me, and she looks beautiful. She's only fourteen, but she might as well be eighteen for the woman she's suddenly turned into.

And, seeing her so drastically diverse to me, I want to steal a Time Turner and relive third year again – relive the time when we were young and had no boobs.

It sounds mean, and almost explicit in that sense, but I can't help but think this way; Lily Evans is my best friend, my very best friend in the entire world, and it's hard for me to see her as someone different than the nerdy little kid she was when I first met her.

But, somehow, I manage to swallow down these thoughts, and I smile, although this time it's a little less sincere. "You look great," I say honestly.

"So do you, Ainsley," Lily assures me, flicking a strand of my hair with her pretty fingers.

"Thanks for trying," I say with a smirk as I plop down and spread out on my side of the compartment.

I'm known for my unbreakable pessimism, so Lily-the-woman just giggles giddily as she does the same on the other side – although she doesn't spread out as luxuriously as I do. "So," she says next, taking a mint out of her purse, "how was your summer, Ains?"

"Absolutely lovely," I answer sarcastically, reaching without invitation into her purse to steal a handful of mints. "I mean, I got to hang out with my mum all break, while she got through six boyfriends and put me through the whole relationship-cycle at warp-speed. I had to make dinner every night this summer for her and some other stupid man she'd picked up off the street. She even forced me to wear make-up for them. Now tell me; how does _that _sound for a kick-arse summer vacation?"

Lily laughs her choky laugh again – she loves hearing about my home life, which is the sharp and polar opposite of her own. "Sounds like fun," she teases me as she takes one of her mints back to unwrap and pop into her mouth. "Were there any good ones this time?"

"Of course not," I say with a snort. "My mother has horrible taste in men; these ones were worse than the other ones she's brought home. There was one, Michael, who started flirting with _me _when my mum was in the bathroom."

Lily blanches and nearly chokes on her mint. "Honestly?" she inquires with disbelief. "How old was he? What did your mum say?"

"He was this atrocious guy aged somewhere in his forties, and he smelled like cabbage," I report. "When my mum walked in, he was trying to smell my hair or something, and I was threatening to kill him. I have a theory that he's some pervert who recently got released from prison. My mum went berserk when she saw him, and thankfully kicked him out."

"That's a relief," Lily says, shuddering. "How revolting."

"You don't say," I say grimly. "My mother and her boyfriends are the reasons why I don't have any faith in the human race at all, let alone want to get married, love. But either way; let's discuss something other than the ghastly men I've acquainted with over these past few weeks – tell me about _your _summer."

"Fair enough," Lily says with a smile. "My summer was actually rather nice – my family and I decided to visit America for a few weeks."

"America?" My interest is caught – Mrs. Evans always has amazing summer holiday plans, and I am utterly jealous. I wish she would adopt me. "How was that?"

"Colorful," Lily says, grinning. "It's similar to here, only they have these flat, nasally accents, their prices are quite high, and there's flashy music _everywhere_. Everybody drives cars and they like lights, cinema, and glossy magazines."

"Where in America did you go?" I ask her.

"New York," Lily says promptly. "It's filthy, and there are a _lot_ of people. But it was still exciting – more people walk there, and there are so many enormous buildings to see. I had American corn dogs!"

"American mystery meat?" I wrinkle my nose. "I don't like the mystery meat _here_; is it any good over there?"

"Actually, it is," she says. "I had two. Petunia wanted to eat a second, but after her first, she began to vomit and we weren't sure why. Now she hates American meat."

I laugh. "Haha – tell Petunia that we should get a hot dog together some time over the next summer."

Lily snorts. "She'll hurt you, Ains."

"Yes, but I'm a witch, in both ways," I remind her. "I can hurt her much worse if she tries."

"I suppose you're right," Lily muses. "She still hasn't forgotten the red bucket incident, you know."

I laugh harder this time; during the summer after our first year, I went to Lily's Muggle home for a visit, and met Petunia Evans for the first and only time. While we were there, sitting on the swings in the park and talking, Petunia arrived with her red bucket and a friend, and they were playing some stupid game with it together. I don't remember how, but the bucket somehow got in my way and annoyed me – I got upset and chucked the bucket back at her.

Somehow, my aim was straight-on, and it hit her smack in the middle of her face. She cried, and since then, Petunia has hated the very sight of me. I've been forced to conclude that she is even faster to judge than I am, and I hadn't expected that to be humanly possible.

Now though, I say reminiscently, "That was a lovely bucket actually, as I think on it. It was so _big _and had this bright yellow handle that blinded me. I think that's what knocked her out for a few minutes."

Lily makes this strange noise somewhere between a snort and a chortle – I call it a snortle. "She loved that bucket," she tells me.

"And I'm saying I loved it too," I say. "It's probably one of about three things we have in common."

"What are the other things?" Lily wants to know.

"We're human, and we're female," I say promptly. Then, I reconsider and say, "Well, actually, I have a theory that your sister is some scientific experiment for training monkeys to join human society, so maybe we only have two things in common. Unless she's secretly a man, in which case, we're only joined by our bond to that red bucket."

Lily gives her volcano-burst of a laugh and comes forward to squeeze me into another one of her hugs. "Oh, how I've missed you, Ainsley Catherwood," she says as she smiles affectionately at me. "With only my sister for company, one forgets there are other people out there who have a real sense of…soul."

Soul?

"Soul?" I ask her, a bit incredulously. "Lils, I am the most soulless person on this planet other than a dementor victim – although I appreciate the compliment nonetheless."

Lily smiles. "You know what I mean. You're more…lively, in this dry sort of way. You're funny and honest and crazy and I love you like the sister I wish Petunia was."

Her flattering remarks – so absent from my life in the summer – manage to tickle me pinker than I can recall going in a while. However, I can't think of a non-mushy way to phrase this, so I settle with saying, "Thanks, Lil. You're like the sister I might have had if my mum hadn't aborted the result of the relationship she had before my dad."

She laughs yet again – Lily is known for laughing a lot – but asks with intrigue, "You never told me your mum got an abortion before you."

"She hasn't either, but I'm a pretty good guesser," I say. "I know that my dad was her third husband – who's to say her other two didn't bed her at the right time of the month?"

My mum is what they call a blonde doll – she's a very pretty face, but beyond that, she's got no light on in the attic, if my drift is clear enough. Men like her for her large breasts and her large hips, as well as her height and face, but when her nasally voice and insipidity start working their way under their skin, the relationship falls apart faster than a mansion of cards.

Lily knows this, since I've told/ranted/explained this to her a million times and more over the course of the years we've known each other, so she is quick to nod and say, "You're right. But it still sounds rather strange, doesn't it? Why would she abort the other babies she might've had if she kept you?"

"That's because when she realized she had me, she wanted to get rid of me, but my biological father refused to let his baby die," I clarify. "He was the most virtuous of the lot, you see; it doesn't show in me, because clearly his genes flew over my fetal head and I got my mother's, but he seems like he's better than what my mum usually goes for. So, she was forced to keep me. But, I was his only baby, so when she got pregnant again – which she did, about four times since I was ten, only the Lord himself knows how – she just got a quiet abortion each time. I think she has a lady reserved for her by this point."

Lily listens to my story carefully, and I can see a hint of sadness as she does; Lily's never been too comfortable with my blunt stories about my mother's revolting love life. She told me once, when I asked her if she didn't want to hear it, that it was only because she feels that I was deprived of a solid childhood, and that she's just so grateful that I'm not at all like the woman I've grown up with.

I thank whatever Higher Power let me have her, really.

When she finishes pondering, though, she says, "Well, I'm glad you didn't get aborted – if you had, I wouldn't have my hilarious and sarcastic best friend, would I?"

"You wouldn't," I agree. "And I wouldn't be here, at Hogwarts, making fun of the stupidities of man!" I cackle rather evilly. "I enjoy doing that."

Lily opens her mouth to say something else, something to do with my remark on the stupidities of man I predict, but it is at this precise moment when someone knocks on our compartment door – it's loud and distinctive, but it still takes me an extra nanosecond to place the knock with the person.

And, when I do, Lily and I groan at the same time, "Go away, Potter."

"It's actually Sirius, but close enough," I hear a familiar voice say cheerfully, while another, slightly deeper voice chuckles along. "Now open up and give me a nice big bear hug, Evans and Catherwood!"

I swear loudly, but Lily is nice enough to say, "Just bug off, would you both? We don't really fancy the company."

"Aww, I know you love us, Evans," Sirius says in a sing-song voice from outside, only a slight wickedness colouring his tone. "Bang, bang, bang; open up, or I'll open it myself."

Lily is about to say something else, but I cut her off by shouting at him, "She's trying to tell you to fuck off, so do so!"

There's a moment of quiet, before Sirius's voice presently says, "Ah, Catherwood, you and your eloquent tongue. How I've missed it over this treacherous summer break without you."

I can feel my easy, dark frustration well up in me like fat in a blood vein, and it takes me a lot of strength not to go out there and kill him. Normally, I silence the impulse rather well, but it's been a whole summer of evil men my mother had dated – whatever patience I did have is waning, and today is just not the right day to annoy me.

So, my tone positively acidic, I say, "Ah, you and your pitiable stupidity when it comes to the ways and minds of fourteen-year-old witches; I certainly haven't missed it, but it appears to be here in full-force nonetheless. Remind me to kill you once no one's looking."

Sirius laughs merrily, then says, "Open up the door and give me the aforesaid hug, Catherwood."

Now, Lily looks warningly at me before whispering, "Ains, just let him come in for a moment and you can kick him out. Doing it like this will only inspire him to be even more irritating."

Her advice is sound, as it almost always is, which means I really have no choice but to listen to it. So, it is with a heavy heart that I unwillingly open the door of our compartment to Sirius Black and James Potter, who are standing there in Muggle clothes, waiting.

It's been two months since I've seen Sirius, so change is to be expected, but as was the case with Lily, a stranger with remnants of the old Sirius stands cheekily before me. Even James looks completely different; a summer has really done wonders for them both.

Sirius's face has lost all the last bits of baby fat he had last year, leaving his cheekbones looking sharp and his jaw looking strong. His hair has grown out admittedly nicely, reaching just a little past his ears, but his eyes remain the same – bright and mischievous. He's lankier than he was at our last farewell (which featured me kicking him in a sensitive male area and him calling me a string of curse words as I boarded the train) and – dare I say it – sporting some more muscle on his arms and legs. I can already tell the girls in our year are going to be swooning over him when they catch sight of him.

James, next to him, has undergone some maturation of his own – never quite as classically handsome as his best friend, his round face has thinned out a bit, although his hair is exactly the same. He's about an inch shorter than Sirius, but fuller somehow, as though all the gangly kid he'd been before has eaten something and evened out. He's basically gone from the cute boy next door to the hotter one down the street, and he, too, will definitely be subject to some female attention. I don't think he'll want it though – the way he's looking at Lily right now, expectant and elated, he's probably going to try for her attentions again, as he had during the second half of last year.

I take in the sight of them with some element of surprise in my face, as does Lily from beside me, and James obviously notices. Pleased that we're studying him, I presume, he smiles and says, "It was really Sirius's idea to pay a visit in here, but I'm glad we did – you look hot, Evans."

Lily blushes as red as her hair, but folds her arms and says, "If you think that's going to win you a date, you're mistaken."

"Well, at least I can say I tried," he says with a wink. "I'll try again once we get to the castle."

"Sod off," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear and eyeing James with the special disgust she's learned to save just for him.

Sirius beams at me, while James grins at Lily, and says, "Catherwood…you're not looking too bad either."

"Too bad I can't say the same about you," I say dryly.

Ignoring this, he looks me up and down and continues, "Really – have you lost weight?"

"Maybe I have," I say defensively, hugging my middle. "Are you trying to suggest that I was fat?"

"No, no, no," Sirius dismisses with another wide smile. "You just look a little smaller in your clothes this year. I like it."

I glance down at my attire – old blue jeans three sizes too big, my favorite faded purple sweatshirt, and filthy sneakers. Do I look smaller in them? Regardless of my weight, I probably would because they're so large, but I decide to let it go and say, "Well, you look too big for yours, so it all evens out."

Sirius glances at himself as well, but then flexes his arm for me. "This is _all _muscle, Catherwood," he tells me. "James and I were working out this summer."

"Doesn't look like it," Lily mutters as she gives James a quick once-over with her cat-green eyes.

James laughs. "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful, Evans," he teases her.

"Arrogant prat," she retorts, rolling her eyes.

James bats his eyelashes, while Sirius only laughs again, grinning affectionately at his best friend. But, his affectionate grin then falls on me, and mixes in with his usual naughtiness as he says, "I'm much obliged by your amusing presence, Catherwood; I'd ask if you and Evans would like to accompany us to our compartment, but I figure that would be asking too much of your politeness."

"Not so much our politeness, but more the capabilities of our stomachs," I say sharply. "Mine has not wanted to upchuck so much since you first began flirting with me a couple of years ago. And I nearly got permanent tissue-damage back then."

Sirius chuckles, but otherwise disregards my remarks as he says, "So I'll see you later, yeah?"

"I suppose I'll have to," I say grudgingly. "But spare me until then, would you?"

Sirius gives me a low, sarcastic bow. "As you wish," he says impishly.

James, on the other hand, says dramatically, "Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say good-night till it be morrow!"

Lily narrows her eyes upon hearing these familiar words, while I gag, since I loathe them. "Shakespeare," she says. "How do you know Romeo and Juliet?"

"My mum made me read it over the summer," James says with a wrinkle of his nose. "I didn't like it, but I knew you did, and I just happened to remember that line at the right moment. Funny how that works, isn't it?"

I smile triumphantly at Lily when I hear this, because I too have been putting Shakespeare's mushiness down for the years I've known her, but Lily carefully chooses to ignore me as she tells James, "You have no taste in literature, Potter. Shakespeare was a genius, and you should remember him for _that_ reason, rather than my preference for him."

"Did you know that he was a homosexual?" Sirius adds in conversationally. "I think it was actually James's mum, Mrs. Potter, who told me."

James catches my eye when we hear this, and at the same moment, we giggle – in all honesty, I don't mind James at all, because it's his best friend I want to murder. James is, to be frank, a pretty kick-arse guy, and I don't know why Lily loathes him so much. I would've considered going out with him for at least a second or two before refusing, which is a pretty high compliment in my world.

So we share a hearty laugh at Shakespeare's expense as Lily folds her arms irately at all three of us. "Really, does it matter if he was gay or not?" she demands of us.

"Well, _yeah_," James says, pink in the nose with the intensity of his laughter. "If he was writing all those soppy poems for another man, isn't that a bit…I dunno…_odd_, since women like them so much? I mean, I believe in love of all types, sure, but I just don't swing that way, you know?"

I double up with laughter at this point, as does Sirius – even Lily can't hide her smile as she says, still very crossly, "So if you believe in love of all types, James Potter, then the rumor that he liked men shouldn't bother you – if it's good-enough poetry, then both men and women can enjoy it."

"Just saying, Evans, just saying," James says with an apologetic smile, putting his hands up in surrender.

"And so am I," Lily says huffily, highly offended that none of us appreciate Shakespeare the way she feels we should. "Now weren't you two about to leave this compartment before we got into this unappreciative conversation on one of the greatest writer's of all time?"

"We were, but you know I love you, Evans," James says, his smile both very sweet and very bothersome. "I'll spend all the time I can with you."

"Awww," Sirius and I say at the same time, although I give him a glare he does not notice the moment we've said the word.

Lily, however, is not amused. "Get out!" she orders, shoving James and Sirius out of the compartment door.

"Okay, okay, we're going, Evans – keep your knickers on, eh?" Sirius cackles at his wording, but allows her to herd him out of the room anyway, with James following along and laughing along.

When they're finally gone and Lily has safely locked the door behind them, I can't help but giggle and comment, "Wow, Lils, the moment they said the wrong thing about Shakespeare, your politeness went straight out the window. I'm proud of you."

Lily grimaces, but plops down on her seat again, as do I. "You can mess with me and I can usually get rid of you, but if you mess with Shakespeare, you're in for it," she explains.

"But I've messed with Shakespeare for years, but you've never killed me for it," I say uncomprehendingly.

"I know," she says. "It's because you're Ainsley Catherwood, darling; if you weren't, I would've been on you for it."

I smile proudly. "Never have I been so glad to be Ainsley Catherwood in my life."

Lily gives me a fond little smirk, but settles herself down once more and changes the subject, but I know that what I said to her was true – until I see her, and come back into her company, I don't usually like to be me. Lily's that rare person in the world that brings out a few of those nicer things about my disposition that are still left, and without her, I honestly don't know what I'd do.

She's my best friend and my guardian angel; and as I supply her with my sardonic end of our conversation, I can't help but think that no matter how aggravating Sirius is, no matter how much she loves the poet/playwright I can't stand, and no matter how ill-tempered I can be, Lily is going to make this destined-to-be-screwed-up year a little bit brighter than it would've been without her.

I mean, without attempting to put her and James together constantly as I did last year, how else would I ever get through an entire year of homework and shit? Honestly?


	2. Vow

**A/N: I had every intention of continuing this story, I really did, but somehow, life got the better of me. So did writer's block. They both kidnapped me together, on this super-secret joint mission worthy of its own Mission Impossible installment, and stuffed me in a closet without my computer…until now. I think I'm on leave for a bit, so I wrote this up for you lot – it's surprisingly long and therefore took me a while, but now it's done!**

**Dedicated to Fierybrunette, who kept giving me those friendly nudges through PM's to get me to finish this. Thanks, love!**

**Read, enjoy, & review!!**

* * *

Finally, at long last, ultimately – however you want to say it, really – the train pulls into the platform near Hogwarts Castle with its usual ancient, crackling puff of smoke and a loud, whiny screech that sounds like my mother trying to sing.

When the floor beneath me stops moving at around seven o'clock according to my watch, after all those hours of bumping along the track, I feel the excitement start coursing through me for the first time since I left Platform 9¾ at King's Cross. The moment I hear shuffling and voices and lots of feet outside our compartment, I spring up from the curled-up position I'd taken on my seat and I get out to grab the trunks above us.

Behind me, I hear Lily stirring from the snooze I'd been too awake to indulge in, and I assure her I'll get her trunk for her – for some reason, I'm always more lethargic _before _the train ride than I am after it. Now, I'm positively hyper…which basically means I'm not as snappish as I'd been with Sirius when he first wandered into our space.

It's just so enthralling; I can't even put it into intelligible words.

Thanks to my newfound energy, it doesn't take me very long to get our trunks together in the blocked-up passageway. It also doesn't take very long for Lily to emerge beside me either, rumpling her mass of fiery curls, looking like she's been through a hurricane. She stumbles slightly as she shifts slightly, clearly still struggling to wake up properly, and asks me in a bit of a mumble, "Did you sleep at all, Ains?"

"Maybe twenty-odd minutes, probably less," I say indifferently. "I can't sleep on trains."

Lily rolls her eyes. "I wish I could put you on a train every morning, then."

I snicker, and give her a small shove, which makes her squeal and lose her balance, forcing her to step on the shoe of the unfortunate soul behind her; my inability to wake up on school mornings unless Lily all but massacres me with her hairbrush is legendary throughout the school by now.

"What was that for?" she grumbles as we shuffle forward a few steps in the congested traffic. It smells like sweat, and Lily hates the scent of sweat – it makes her grumpy.

"I dunno, I felt like it," I say with a grin.

"My, you're certainly feeling better," Lily notes sarcastically.

"It's known to happen once in a while," I say casually, bumping the person in front of me along a little bit with my bag. "Just don't get used to it."

Lily takes her turn to snicker at me, and yawns again. "I'm hungry," she announces.

"I am too," I realize, my stomach choosing exactly this moment to thunder loud enough for people around me to glance vaguely in my direction. "Do you have any of those mints left in your purse?"

"No," Lily says as she checks. "I think you ate them all."

The faintest trace of a blush colors my pale cheeks now, but my tone remains light as I say, "Ah, well, at least we can save our hunger for the feast when we get inside."

"_If _we ever get inside," Lily groans, craning her graceful neck to peer over the sea of heads in front of us. "We're going to be stuck here for ages!"

"Maybe not," I say musingly, making a few quick mental calculations as I survey the crowd as well.

Lily turns her head to look at me, worried. "You sound very, very ominous, Ainsley Catherwood," she says. "You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"

Her eyes are imploring me not to do something stupid on the first day – Lily's never been very comfortable with my insane, and sometimes completely self-seeking, actions in a tight corner.

However, I pay this no mind, and flash her one of my very-very-ominous smiles. "Of course not," I say innocently.

Lily's about to object, but I don't wait for her to – as a better use of my time, I clear my throat, hold my trunk almost like one of those funny Muggle guns, and holler, "MOVE, people, come along now, MOVE!"

Numerous perplexed, indignant faces twist about to get a good look at me, but I've gone into Commando mode – I'm ready to kick some arse. From the corner of my eye, I can see that Lily has gone three shades paler and is about ready to die from embarrassment, but I only let this spur me on further as I part the thick crowd with astonishing ease; I have what they call a 'Reputation' for being someone a bit dodgy, so I can usually get away with pulling stunts like this.

Regardless of what the good girls say, there's always a few perks to being the crazy one.

So, with Lily trailing along in my wake, trying her best to ignore the looks we're getting, I push my way through the stuffy train all the way up to the front, where the source of the hold-up is – a nerdy-looking first year girl whose whole trunk split open and left all her belongings scattered everywhere. Nobody's really helping her. Even the enormously fat train driver, Mr. Chuckles, (our underground nickname for him, since he's the most cheerless person since the Grinch himself), hasn't made a move to get up and do something for her.

Of course, he couldn't do anything magically, because everyone knows is a Squib and could sooner eat the world's corn population than pack her suitcase with the wave of a wand – maybe that's why he's just sitting there, sort of watching her, while she does her best to pack an extraordinary amount of things into a trunk her mother probably did up for her in the first place.

This could take a while. If no one else will, I think it's time for me to take action.

"Oy, move along there," I tell the girl briskly. "We have to get inside."

She looks up at me, terrified, and surveys me with watery cerulean eyes. Her fear actually scares _me _a little; never have I seen such an alarmed human being in my life. I soften a little at her apprehension.

"Or, okay, erm, what's your name?" I attempt to backtrack, rubbing my eyes briefly with the back of my hand.

"A-Angela Sharpe," the girl blusters, her little face alive with pure terror.

"Oh," I say, falsely interested. "That's a nice name."

She can't even muster the nerves to thank me – I feel rather sorry for her, but sorrier for myself. A twinge of uneasiness filters through me; am I really that horrifying? Is this what I come across as to other people? I can't really put my finger to it, but something about this bothers me, hurts me inexplicably, though I do my best to brush it off with my signature smirk.

"So, do you need some help with this?" I ask, gesturing to the open bag.

"T-t-t-that professor, the t-t-tall one with b-brown hair, s-s-said she'd h-h-help in a m-moment," Angela Sharp does her best to inform me, chattering so much I wonder if she's suffering from frostbite. "S-she had t-to take c-c-care of s-something first."

"I see…" My voice trails off as I observe her contemplatively. "That was probably McGonagall, then."

"S-s-she said to w-wait for h-her to d-d-d-deal with m-me," Angela adds, though she looks like she's ready to have herself a good faint.

"Okay," I say slowly, frowning slightly. "When did she say that, if you remember?"

Angela opens her mouth to say something, but it is at this moment when Professor McGonagall herself walks up, looking rather cross about something as she steps towards the train – she's always like that just after summer holidays.

Upon seeing me, her mouth thins to a dangerous point; I'm not sure if it's because I've forgotten how thin her mouth can go over the weeks I've been away, or if she simply spends her breaks inventing new ways to appear evil, but I'm almost positive it's the latter of the two. She's never liked me much, claiming I "waste potential" (a phrase I seem to get a lot, somehow) and I can only imagine how thrilled she must be to see me here with a first year who looks like she's been violently raped recently.

"Miss Catherwood," McGonagall says crisply, seeming to want to vomit the words. "I thought I told the train to please stay put until I came to deal with Miss Sharpe's trunk?"

"I wasn't aware of that until about four seconds ago," I announce innocently. "Lily and I were just about to get off the train." I gesture to Lily, who's wearing that smile of hers that suggests that she would really like to stay invisible right now. McGonagall looks a little less weary when she catches sight of Lily – who is a favorite because she's so damn clever – but is right back to being a dragon lady when she looks back at me.

"Well, I will have to ask you both to wait a bit, Miss Catherwood," she says.

"I-i-i-it's fine, r-r-really," Angela interjects suddenly, surprising us all by her daring. She then scuttles aside to make some room for Lily and me, and looks expectantly at us, waiting. McGonagall appears to be highly annoyed by this gesture.

"Take Miss Evans back to your compartment, please, Catherwood, and stay there until you are dismissed," she orders.

"Yes Professor," I hear Lily say obediently behind me as she tugs on my sleeve. "We're going; aren't we, Ains?"

I let my gaze fall back on Lily, whose green eyes are insistent that I do what's being asked of me. I consider backing down, doing what she wants me to do, being a good citizen as everybody wants me to be…but the consideration passes, and I decide to screw it all and do something different:

I help 'Miss Sharpe.'

Yes, _I _help her – this surely must be a hallucination of some sort, because I usually won't help anyone, since I'm either too lazy or I don't like the person, but I accept it as I abandon my trunk and skip outside into the muggy summer air. McGonagall is about to stop me – and chastise me, I'm guessing – but when she sees me whip out my wand and smartly do a couple of charms Lily taught me when attempting to clean my room last summer, she stops.

At once, Angela's clothes and possessions fly into the trunk, obedient and harmless, and although they're a bit higgledy-piggledy yet (I haven't really mastered the charm to Lily's level yet), they're in for the most part and I close the trunk with a snap, sitting on it for good measure, beaming up at Angela and Professor McGonagall, glancing back at Lily once too.

The pure astonishment is evident in both McGonagall's eyes and in Lily's.

I can almost hear those unspoken words from everyone who can see me drumming in my ears as I continue to sit where I am – _'Are we seeing a breakthrough? Is Miss Catherwood going to finally shed her bad attitude and be the good person we all knew she could be?'_

And I can also hear my unspoken answer back at their sorry selves – '_Hell no!'_

"Get up, Miss Catherwood," McGonagall requests, her mouth going thin again.

"Right-o, Professor," I say, my smile cheeky as I bounce up, tucking a few unruly locks of my hair behind my ears.

I then look to Angela, who still looks fairly horror-struck. She's even more panicky than she was when McGonagall appeared – which implies that I am scarier than the strictest teacher the world has ever known, a fact that is both insulting and very, very cool. I decide to test out my limits.

With my widest, Cheshire Cat smile, I put out my hand to the little first year and say, "Hey, lay one on me."

Angela's eyes widen and she looks apprehensively at my hand, as though I'm holding a polka-dotted tarantula in it or something. However, when she's sure I don't (usually) bite, she carefully high-fives me with her little hand, and I grin.

"I'm Ainsley Catherwood, if you were wondering," I tell her.

"Hi Ainsley," she murmurs.

I have to work hard to hold back my laughter, but I salute her, and turn to McGonagall expectantly, all remnants of helpful-Ainsley gone in the split-second it took me to make the gesture.

"So can Lily and I get into the coaches now?" I ask McGonagall. "Please?"

McGonagall seems to be having a bit of an inner dilemma – she doesn't want me to leave, but she can't deny that what I did was helpful and deserves the privilege – but she says after a moment or two, "All right then, Miss Catherwood. You may go."

"Brilliant!" I beam. "Thanks, Professor!"

McGonagall spares me one of her rarer, more affectionate smirks, and says, "Hurry now; and tell those people in the back of the train that they come and find a coach now that Miss Sharpe's trunk is taken care of."

"Sure." Now, it is Lily that speaks from her original spot inside the train – she looks rather bemused, if truth be told, even as she hollers in her loud, authoritative, Lily-Evans voice, "Let's get this traffic moving now, yeah? Miss Sharpe is finished. Hurry, hurry, hurry!"

Once she's made her announcement and we can hear some signs of movement from inside the train, I give Angela Sharpe a quick little pat on her head, and grab my trunk from Lily's outstretched hand – and, together, we bound out of the train and make a mad dash for one of the good coaches that will get us to the castle faster than most of the other ones.

Okay, so I must admit; maybe there are perks to being one of the good girls too.

The rest of the school is close behind us as we clamber onto the coach farthest to the front, so Lily and I are a bit out of breath as we settle down, with our trunks between our legs. But, the moment Lily's got control over herself, she begins to giggle.

"Ainsley, I'm so proud of you," she says, her smile vaguely sly. "You lent a hand to a person in need – and on your own free will! This is a big step in the right direction."

I roll my eyes, blushing again. "Maybe it seemed very sweet and lovely at the time, but it really wasn't – I lent her a hand because I knew McGonagall would let me get off the train before everyone else. I was more selfish than anything else."

"Well, regardless, that little Angela Sharpe got all her things collected without a nervous breakdown and everyone got out faster, all because of your selfishness; so I suppose it's selfishness that coincidentally worked out for everyone, making it unselfish after all," Lily deduces with a grin.

I release a low chuckle. "Must you be so optimistic?"

"Of course." Lily puts her arm around my shoulder, and laughs. "You've got no hopefulness to speak of; someone's got to have enough for the both of us, so it might as well be me!"

I shrug, but smirk at her. "Whatever you wish, O Hopeful Lily Evans."

She gives me a playful punch on the arm, but it is at this moment when the empty air holding up our carriage decides to spontaneously move forward a little bit, and take us closer to Hogwarts – therefore, closer to home…as well as a big table covered with dishes that could keep me happy for at least two or three hours.

I take no hesitation in letting out a whoop towards the navy-satin sky; I can already hear the feast calling out to me, and who am I to make dinner wait for me?

**&**

Once inside Hogwarts, we ravenous fourth years swarm the Gryffindor table along with the rest of the upper-school students. It's been a long, chilly ride in the carriages up to the castle, and the warmth of the Great Hall is pretty welcome by this point.

I attempt to pull Lily towards the Gryffindor table, already drooling although the food isn't out yet, but Lily is not in the mood to go quickly – she's looking around with the greatest fondness for the hall we are in.

"Ains, isn't it great to be home?" she asks dreamily, looking at the ceiling as though it's a dear old friend.

"Yep," I say, nodding. "They'd better have some chicken, I could use a couple of drumsticks…"

Lily rolls her eyes, but smiles. "C'mon, the Sorting is about to start; let's find Mary and Alice, shall we?"

"If you must," I say, allowing Lily to herd me forward, craning her neck to find our two other friends. "I really don't know why you're so sentimental, Lils; if Mary and Alice want us, they should come find us."

"Maybe they're thinking the same for us – don't be so sour and anti-social," Lily says vacantly, still looking around.

I pull an ugly face, but look around with her, to make the process finish with greater ease; my good deed of the night seems to have put me in quite the giving mood. A minute or two later, though, it is not our friends that catch my wandering eye.

I groan loud enough for people in the vicinity turn to glance back at me. "Lily, can we please get out of this jam and get to the other end of the table? Fast?"

"There are a couple of sixth years that won't seem to move, so I can't really do that," Lily calls back to me. "Why?"

"We've got visitors," is all I will say on the matter.

Lily looks oddly at me, and then allows her vision to fill up with the same image I am seeing. When James Potter and Sirius Black come to view, she, too, makes a very loud noise of discontent.

"Oh no," she moans. "Not again."

"Run!" I suggest, gesturing to an opening near us.

"C'mon then, Ains, come with me!" Lily grabs my hand, and together, we attempt to squeeze through the throng of people to get to the Gryffindor table. There are quite a few people – I step on several feet and get several more dirty looks – but this is an emergency situation. It's time to go.

Constantly looking over my shoulder like I have a twitch in my neck, I follow James and Sirius's progress as they see us, and begin to make their way towards us, smiling away for all they're worth, and urge Lily on. She gets the message, and we make it to the far side of the table at last, breathless as we sit down and rest. Lily looks rather worried.

"Where are Mary and Alice?" she wonders again. "I don't want to have to sit with those two hooligans; that would be unbearable."

"I know, I know," I say, biting and releasing my lower lip, deep in thought as I look for our friends. "Let's just pray they see us before the boys do."

"Ooh, I think that's Mary," Lily offers, her attention snapping up at the prospect of Mary Macdonald, her jealousy-inspiring emerald eyes brightening. "D'you think Alice is with her?"

"Maybe," I say absently, looking around myself. If I see Alice, that's a plus, because I really am just making sure James and Sirius are safely away from us – and they are. They have found their other two friends, Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin, and the four of them are catching up, laughing and talking and enjoying themselves thoroughly.

Good. At least they're out of _our _hair.

"The Marauders are together; we're free," I tell Lily in her ear.

"Thank goodness," she responds, smiling. "And I think that _was _Mary – I'm going to wave her over."

With this, Lily's long, slender arm is raised up to the peacefully star-peppered sky that is supposed to be our ceiling, and she waves it about frantically, passively urging Mary to look here. And after a moment or two, she does.

"MARY!" Lily hollers so loudly I nearly topple off my bench with astonishment. "OVER HERE! C'MERE!!"

"You'd best speak up a bit, Lils, I think there might've been a few remote Argentinean villages that maybe didn't hear that," I mutter roughly, glowering at her, rubbing my poor ripped ear.

"I'm sorry, darling, but she wouldn't be able to hear me unless I screamed it," Lily tries to explain, torn between laughing at me and being very, very sorry.

"Yeah, well, if she didn't hear you, I'm going to hide in a cave when you call again," I inform her darkly.

My reaction amuses Lily; she laughs, and sour as anything, I remark, "Well, at least my auditory pains come to _some _use in this cruel, cruel world we live in."

She shakes her head at me, and says, "Ainsley, you are such a drama queen. Hush."

"You can't silence a revolution," I tell her peevishly, sniffing.

This time, Lily ignores me, and waves at Mary again, beaming. Mary is also grinning, seeing the stormy look on my face and the bright one on Lily's, as she parts the crowd to take a seat next to us. Lily gives a cry of delight as she throws her arms around Mary.

"Mary, Mary, you're here!" she says excitedly. "Oh, you must tell me how your hols were; how are you?"

"Fine, I'm perfectly fine," Mary responds, just as excited. "I went to Scotland for my holidays, to visit family and the like. We had some jolly fun by the sea, it was brilliant. I'm just sad to leave it, as much as I do love this place."

Lily looks about ready to burst with her joy, and she and Mary converse a bit more, rapidly exchanging various bits of news from break, while I lose interest completely and look around me, bored. Lily loves to talk the moment she gets to reacquaint with friends, but I tend to get a bit more inward during those kinds of moments.

Some call it petulant and anti-social.

Me? I call it being rational.

I mean, just because I'm not bouncing off the wall, squealing my head off as if I've won the damn lottery, doesn't mean I'm not animated or happy or any of that. I just choose to do it in a more civilized manner. Bite me, why don't you.

I muse on this, twirling my fork in my hand, wishing the feast would start and these boisterous people would just please sit down and pay some attention. We still have to do the Sorting before we even get to come close to a morsel of food. Human beings are so tiresome.

As I continue to observe my surroundings, I notice Alice Prewitt finally emerge into a huge bubble of people cluttering around the other end of the Gryffindor table, giggling with a girl I recognize from here to be Emmeline Vance. Glancing at Lily and Mary, who are still talking away at top speed, I then begin to wave my own arms around, hoping Alice will see me. Lily will appreciate this, I'm sure.

It takes me longer than it took Lily to flag down Mary, but soon enough, Alice does take notice of the loony girl searching desperately for her line of vision. Smiling, she waves back, and puts up her index finger, indicating she'll be right there. I nod at her, and go back to ignoring Mary and Lily's conversation, resuming also my enthralling activity of playing with my fork.

A couple of minutes later, Alice turns up at the table, her expression alight with interest and what I perceive as joy to see her friends again.

"Ainsley!" She says my name like a cheerleader whoop. "Merlin, it feels like forever! Come here and hug me!"

Alice knows I don't particularly enjoy hugs, but either she's forgotten or she simply doesn't care as she throws herself on me (the second person to do this to me today!), squeezing me tightly. I cough over her shoulder.

When she releases me, I say casually, "Hey Alice. And oh, that popping noise you just heard? That was only my ribcage cracking. But don't worry, or anything, I'm sure I can live without that hard, bony exterior around my internal organs."

Alice laughs, smiling affectionately at me, and says, "Sorry, Ains. Just got a bit keyed up."

"Obviously," I say. "But that's fine, really. Madam Pomfrey can give me the crowning honor of being her first patient of the new school year."

"Stop bitching, Ainsley, is it so wrong to be happy to see you?" Alice smirks at me, too used to my behavior to be very surprised.

"Yes, it is," I say dramatically, flinging my arm into space and nearly hitting the back of Mary's head. "For I am a forsaken, black-intentioned female, despaired over by her mother, despaired over by her teachers, despaired over by the few friends she has managed to retain…"

"Geez, we're certainly in a strange mood tonight, aren't we, Ains?" Alice asks, snorting as she crosses around the table to sit across from me. "What's up?"

"I dunno, I'm just tired and crabby and quite hungry," I say with a sigh.

"Doesn't Lily keep mints somewhere on her person?" Alice wonders.

"Yeah, but I ate them all on the train," I say sorrowfully.

"I missed you, Ainsley," Alice says, laughing. Then she raises her voice and addresses my companions, "Oy, LILY! MARY! Come say hello!"

At this, Lily and Mary immediately turn their heads to see Alice, and the squealing starts all over again. I don't know why I bother to even bring up my poor eardrums, which are suffering quite heavily under all this strain. My house is always quiet, full of me avoiding the obnoxious new man my mother had brought home like a bad show-and-tell presentation, and adjusting to this cheerful, energetic atmosphere after that is difficult for me every year. It puts me in quite a mood – something Alice knows but pokes fun at me for regardless.

It's a routine. What can I say?

I sigh, and sink back into my mild depression as my friends start conversing around me. I'm probably getting all sorts of looks right now – looks wondering what that crazy bitch Ainsley Catherwood is doing, being all moody – but I honestly couldn't care less. Not even if I tried, which I don't feel the need to do anyway.

I get looks all the time. I most likely deserve every single one of them. I've already accepted it, because unlike most of those people who stare at me, I know my place in the world.

With a second sigh, I lay my cheek against my hands on the table, facing the High Table that seems a million miles away from me, and I proceed to lose myself into my half-conscious day-dream.

I'll wake up when they feed me.

**&**

It seems to take forever – because by my definition of the word, it does – but at long, long last, the Sorting and start-of-year speeches and trifling reminders and all that finish and we are able to stuff our faces with the delectable treats courtesy of our house elves before retiring upstairs to bed.

The evening is a blur of conversation and catching up and eating – plenty of that last one – so by the time Lily, Mary, Alice, and I are trooping upstairs to wangle the password out of this year's prefects (one of them, Brendan Waters, is proclaimed to be "quite beautiful" by Mary), we are fairly exhausted.

All of us have been fed, all our stories shared (including mine and Lily's about Angela Sharpe – who was, ironically, sorted into Hufflepuff within a second and a half), and we are yawning after the long day we've had. There's nothing else left to say, and classes obviously begin tomorrow.

Bottom line: we need sleep. And we need it now.

The four of us, along with everyone else, disperse in the common room to the appropriate dormitories. A bed hasn't looked so welcoming in a long time, at least not to me. When we enter our tiny room, Alice is the first to run to her bed, which is signified by her trunk sitting beside it, and fall on it with a little thud, giggling.

"It's good to be home," she says sleepily, yawning.

"Me too," Mary agrees, falling on her own bed. "So, which one of you is going to join me in the no-wearing-night-clothes-because-these-clothes-work-just-as-well club tonight?"

"I'm game," I say, sitting on my bed rather than falling on it, grinning at my friends.

"Count me in," Alice says sleepily, raising her hand as though she's voting.

"How's about you, Lils?" I turn to Lily, who is still impossibly standing up by her dresser, opening up her trunk. "You joining us?"

"I'll meet you halfway," Lily decides, stripping off her shirt, "by sleeping in my underwear."

"Ooh, then let's hope Potter doesn't pay you a visit tonight," Alice teases, laughing. "He'd just about die!"

Lily shoots Alice one of her death glares and chucks a pillow at her, hitting her square in the face. "Don't even joke like that," she warns, pulling her jeans off of her long legs and hitting Alice with them.

"It's true," I taunt her. "Poor thing! You're such a tease, walking around in knickers only a few meters away from him."

Lily's death glare is now given to me, but I don't care much tonight. I simply smile sweetly, surveying my friend in her lacy pink bra and white panties, hand on her slim hip, and I say, "Okay, I'm sorry," even though I'm not.

"Whatever." Huffy, Lily produces some shorts from somewhere inside of her trunk and slips them on before neatly climbing into bed – not plopping onto it like the rest of us – cuddling in comfortably. "Good night, girls. See you in the morning."

"Yeah, mhmm," Mary mumbles, so sleepily that I wonder how she mustered the energy to even listen to what Lily said.

"'Night, Lils, Ains, Mary," Alice says cheerfully, her voice also woolly as she sticks her face into her pillow, folding it around her head and making an Alice sandwich.

"Good night to anyone who's listening," I call out. Nobody answers – typical – and I'm about to go to sleep myself (even bitches have the right to be exhausted), when I hear Lily hesitantly say my name. "Ainsley?"

"Yeah?" I turn over with great difficulty, my black hair plastered all over my face, and squint to look at her in the dark. She looks wide awake. I will never know how she does this.

"I dunno," Lily says quietly, fiddling with a plastic ring she's wearing on her finger. "I just…I wanted to ask you something."

"Go on then, spit it out," I say, blinking in my attempt to keep consciousness. "I'm about to crash."

"I know." Lily exhales with a short puff, and then regards me seriously with those green eyes of hers. "Ains, I want you to make a vow with me."

"A vow?" Despite my sleepiness, my attention is caught.

"Yes, a vow." Lily returns to her ring and goes on, "A vow that, despite our hideous stalkers, we are going to make the most out of this year. We'll get through it together, and help each other out. Can you promise me that?"

I consider this, but not for very long. "Yeah, okay, that's a good idea," I say agreeably. "We're going to make the most out of this year…oh, and we're not going to succumb to our stalkers. That's the other part of the vow."

"Yes, that's perfect." Somehow, Lily manages to smile – and not just smile, but _beam_, a huge smile with so much light behind it that it almost blinds me. "We can do it."

"Hell yes," I concur fuzzily.

"We ought to shake on it," Lily declares. "You know, to make it official."

Grumbling under my breath, I find my hand and outstretch it across to Lily's bed, which is next to mine on the right side, and she shakes it for me. Her grip is firm while mine is limp – which is the same deal on basically everything in life for us – and it feels wonderfully warm and secure for the brief seconds we stay like that. When she lets go, I miss her weight.

"Okay, it's official," she says. "We are going to kick some arse this year."

"Don't we always?" I half-smile at her – the best I can do at the current time – and say, "I'm _so tired _though, Lils; so I'll see you in the morning. Of course."

"Of course." Lily laughs – maybe her exhaustion is so much that it makes her giddy, that's my only guess – and says, "'Night, Ainsel-puff."

"If I could, I would hex you into next week," I inform her. "You _know _I hate that name."

"You deserve it," Lily says, smirking. "But good night."

"Good night."

Satisfied with her revenge on my crack about James, Lily turns over and lays still, although I can sense she's still awake. She probably will be for a little while longer. I won't though; so I also turn over, so I can see Mary's nearly deathly-still form lying on top of her blankets still, and I close my eyes.

It doesn't take me very long until I think no more for the remainder of the night.


End file.
